Life Is Heald: A partial primer on true Floridians

Most locals, myself included, will tell you, that whenever people ask where we’re from and we tell them, “Right here,” they inevitably respond, “You’re the first person I’ve ever met from here.”

I admit, technically, I’m not from here either. And then all of God’s children said, “Aha!” Yeah, well, relax, I’m still way more from here than you are.

I was born in Arcadia. If you’ll go ahead and make your joke at my expense, we’ll keep this moving. We left when I was 1 so now I’ve been here 54 years, grew up here, went to school here, etc. You still don’t know where Arcadia is, and yet, I’ve wasted two paragraphs. So, yeah, I’m from here, how about you? (Oh, sorry, that was rhetorical, we’ve got to a column to get to.)

Odds are that you aren’t from here. Fact is, most of you reading this are probably snowbirds or Yankees or seasonal residents or tourists, whatever family friendly label you prefer.

Needing something to write about this week, I came across a posting on the internet titled, “You’re a true Floridian if…” It was humorous, but not hostile, and polite to the point that any shots fired in a northerly direction did not stir the ghosts of Fort Sumter. I thought I might elaborate on some of its edicts.

“A good parking spot is all about the shade and nothing about proximity.”

“You can tell the difference between mosquito bites and fire ant bites.” Hopefully, you’ve never suffered from either one of these afflictions, but then you’d be in a place called not Florida. This is how you know when someone else has fallen prey: If you hear “damn,” someone got bitten by a mosquito. The rest of the profanity anthology is devoted to being bitten by fire ants.

“You dread love bug season.” For those of you who winter here, you’ve obviously achieved some degree of success in your life since you have two homes. Love bugs are item No. 23 on the list of motivations for the rest of us to work hard so we, too, can get out of here come summer time. Seriously, what demented side of Mother Nature created an insect of just such a consistency that when you turn on your wipers, your windshield has Mascara that runs for days?

“You know what a snowbird is and when they’ll leave.” This one has taken on an added dimension lately. You see, so many of you, are doing so well that you don’t even have to drive your car down and back anymore, but rather, you have it loaded onto a car hauler and then head to the airport. Congrats to you on that, and now you know why the favorite vehicle of all locals is not a Mercedes or a Lamborghini or even a Cadillac. (No, not a swamp buggy either, very funny though.) It’s a car hauler. Piggybacking on that, it follows that our favorite holiday is Easter because while chocolate bunnies are great, nothing beats the Easter basket that is a car hauler pointed north, filled with colorful license plates.

“You get annoyed at the tourists who feed seagulls.”

“You can pronounce Okeechobee, Kissimmee, Thonotosassa and Micanopy.” No, it’s not that “Seminole” was a second language requirement in school, it’s more like a secret handshake. If a local says it wrong, you tell him how to say it right. When you say it wrong, you’ve been outed. No secret handshake for you.

“You know the four seasons really are: Hurricane season, love bug season, tourist season and summer.” Yes, yes, I do know this, too well, actually, and for too long. Say, Easter was last week, wasn’t it? Summer’s coming and you’re going, but wait, if you’re reading this, you’re still here. Please, take me with you! I’ll ride in the car on the car hauler, I promise, just get me out of here! And sooner rather than late.